Shelves
by The cursed child
Summary: A hall closet in Gibbs' house tells more stories than his basement does.


**A/N The result of a sleepless night….**

A hall closet can tell a life's worth of stories. Some are filled with cleaning supplies, others are stacked with fluffy towels and bed linen.

The occasional individual stuffs his with memories, causing trinkets to be pushed back against the back wall until they are all but forgotten under a gathering pile of trash, just like the moments they accompany.

The one in Gibbs's house tells even more stories than that. It is neatly organized, and consists out of five shelves. In all its simplicity, it doesn't seem like much. Eight piles of clothes fill four of the wooden surfaces, drawing attention to the bottom shelf, which is empty.

It unofficially belongs to Timothy McGee, the youngest member on Team Gibbs.

The Probie, however, doesn't know it's there. It is not because he is unwelcome in the home of his fearless leader, but because he's never had a reason to stay the night there.

When Tim is upset, he doesn't even consider going to his boss for comfort. Instead, he calls his baby sister, who never misses the call when it inevitably comes, no matter what time it is. Sarah knows what her brother needs, and comes over every time without fail.

All she brings is her smile and the gratitude he invokes within her for practically raising her in the regular absence of their father. The sibling bond only strengthens, and Tim wouldn't trade it for the world.

Abby, on the other hand, always goes to Gibbs when the case hits too close to home.

They've known each other the longest, and it is she who claims the hall closet in the first place. The middle of the closet obviously belongs to her, littered with black clothes and dog collars placed against the wall on the right.

When she arrives with tears in her eyes he nods her toward the guest room on the upper floor. On her way there she stops at the familiar door. She always smiles at the sight of her clothes in his house, left piece by piece over numerous sleepovers in the past decade.

She grabs a shirt to sleep in and changes in the guest room, crawling under the covers. Gibbs follows a minute later with a Decaf Caf-Pow in his hand, accompanied by his black coffee in the other. He undoes her pigtails with practiced ease and wipes away any lingering tears before he kisses her cheek and returns to the basement.

Just the feeling of him near makes her feel safe enough to sleep, encased by the warm reason why she ends up there might never be anything but saddening, but in the mornings she leaves feeling much better and refreshed.

The Caf-Pow in her hand as she steps into her car is the result of hard work after she wakes up, trying to find the newest location where he stashed it for her. The perfect beginning of a new day.

Tony claims the upper surface, not at all surprised to see the scientist's clothes. The first time he simply throws his go-bag inside and goes back downstairs to help Gibbs figure out the final clue to crack their case. He forgets the bag when they leave to arrest their guy, and it never really leaves the house again.

With just the two of them for a while, it is not unusual that they share take-out while pouring over case files, hot and cold. And when Tony falls asleep on the couch, Gibbs covers him with a blanket and goes to his bedroom if he feels like sleeping. It doesn't bother him that DiNozzo steals his usual place to crash, even if it means that he has to retire to a bed far too big for one man.

The wood between Abby's and Tony's hasn't been touched in years, but everyone know it is Kate's. If the clothing-style hadn't given it away, the small layer of dust that covers them would.

Gibbs himself never figured out why she came to him almost three nights a week, sometimes more. They never talked about it, but he can't bring himself to regret not asking.

She just shows up one night, walks straight to the door that leads to the back yard and lies down on the grass, falling asleep under the few visible stars. Gibbs doesn't even know she's there until he emerges from the basement for coffee and feels the cold coming from outside.

When he finds her asleep, he lifts her up and carries her sleeping form up the stairs. After some deliberation, he places her on his bed. He struggles with her shoes for a moment, takes them off and noiselessly sits on his side of the bed.

He watches her, and tries to figure out if she actually slept through her journey up the stairs or is faking it. In the end he decides it doesn't matter, and lays down beside her.

Even though they keep repeating the process for the next two years, he never breaks his own rule #12. Maybe, he thinks when he stands by her grave, he should've.

The last shelf already belongs to Ziva for three years before it is filled. She knows of the habits of her teammates, but thinks herself too old for something as ridiculous as a sleepover at Gibbs' place.

Somalia changes that, among many other things. At first, she is hesitant. The shadows of her new apartment are too alive, the wind too noisy. Yet, she refuses to give in to the urge to seek reassurance. She knows she is not welcome at the house, and needs to know she can rely on herself again first.

When she is back at her desk, however, she knows that she can't keep living like that. She needs to sleep instead of pass out, and instinct guides her to Gibbs long after midnight.

His basement is full of memories, not only hers but his too. Quietly, she slides down the wall and onto the ground, her head placed in the V-shape that the walls at the bottom of the stairs form.

She spends hours staring at the discolored area where her lies started, tries to imagine how life will be now that the truth has been revealed. Ari's blood is still faintly visible, and she hums herself to sleep with songs of grieve for her big brother.

Gibbs finishes sanding hours later and watches her for a second, deciding that it is time to give Ziva her own bed in his house.

He crouches in front of her and brushes his fingertip across the tip of her nose. Ziva is instantly awake, but as soon as she identifies Gibbs, falls half-way back into sleep.

He tugs her up and guides her up the stairs, grabbing a key from a bowl on the way up.

They stop at the end of the hallway. Gibbs takes the key and unlocks the last door, revealing a third bedroom.

There is no question in her mind that this room used to be Kelly's, covered in dark wood and shades of green paint. There might not be any visible material possessions left in the bedroom, but this room holds more memories than any other in the house.

Gibbs pushes her toward the bed and rummages in a drawer that belongs to a dresser on the north side of the room. Ziva, meanwhile, hesitantly undoes her boots.

"Go to sleep, Ziver," he whispers, placing a kiss on her forehead.

The man opens the music-box he retrieved from the dresser and takes place in the rocking chair next to the bed.

Ziva falls asleep to an unfamiliar melody and the soft creeks of wood.


End file.
